Ron Weasley's POV- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
by Jea Faith Nye
Summary: A lot goes on in the life of Ron Weasley in Book 6. Amidst all the disappearances and deaths, Ron finds himself in a difficult romantic situation, à la any normal teenager. He also gets poisoned and is brought back from near death by his best friend. What went on in Ron's mind during this tumultuous year? A mix of romance and drama, doom and gloom, all from Ron's point of view.
1. Reminiscences and Fantasies

**Author's note:**

**It has been a tough time this past year for me mentally, what with the political situation in my country, reports of genocide worldwide, the climate change emergency and my life in general. I desperately looked for comfort and familiarity, which I finally found in rereading Harry Potter. While reading the Half-Blood Prince, I realised that Ron had a lot going on in his life too, although we have just been focusing on Harry and his potion book.**

**I love Harry tons (who wouldn't love a highly interesting, charming, smart and courageous protagonist, who is also sassy af?), but I love Ron more. I have always considered him to be the most relatable of the trio. He can be a jerk quite a lot of times; he can be idiotic the rest of the time. Just like most of us. But underneath this normalcy is one of the most admirable characters I've ever read.**

**Ron is hot af. Not only that. He's smart af. He's one of the 3 that brought down Voldy. He became an Auror, already no mean feat, without having to pass his NEWTs. He went on to become a very successful businessman. He was caring, brave and never hesitated to give his life for his friends and the general good, all at the age of 11! (and onwards!). Despite being overshadowed by his brothers and his friends, he held his own. He got over his mental block of inadequacy and became the charming man he did. Despite obviously being looked over by almost everyone, including his own mother, he proved his mettle. And he never, ever stopped caring. He learnt from his mistakes; Dumbledore knew he'd always want to come back. He learnt from his mistakes to become worthy of Hermione, through and through.**

**If you, my dear reader, has gone through the murkier phases of life, you'll know that everything that I have noted in the preceding para is very very difficult to do, no matter how easy it may sound. Many adults fail to do what Ron did. Despite his obvious charm, dear JK Rowling went on to insult him eventually. The movies did him dirty, the movie-going audience started hating him, and JK Rowling jumped onto the bandwagon, for reasons best known to her.**

**I have since become very aggressive at defending Ron and trying to understand his character more. I have also since wondered what would be Ron's POV.**

**Book 6 is my favourite book. I have always wanted to try my hand at writing. Ron is my favourite character. So I decided to embark on this journey. It will be long and very difficult, considering that I've never written before. But I hope dear reader, that you like what I have to offer and give me your support on this journey.**

**Thank you and happy reading!**

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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It was the first day of summer break. Ron had woken up, well rested, to a growling stomach in his attic room at the Burrow. But his feet felt leaden. As the blanket of exhaustion lifted, his head started buzzing with the recent goings-on: 'What a school year this has been! Sirius, Harry's only family, dead! I'm going to miss him too. He may have been an adult, but he was one of the coolest ones I'd known. His death was tragic, his life was tragic. This sucks; why did this have to happen? Why Sirius? Why Harry? His only family... What in the name of Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts! We're all Harry's family, yes we are. I hope he knows this though... Does he? What must he be doing at the Dursleys' right now? They probably don't know what Harry's going through. Like they'd care even if they knew, ha! I can't leave Harry alone this summer, with his thoughts and grief, and no one to share them with. I can only imagine what he's going through, mum's never stopped mourning her brothers...'

Ron soon found himself at the breakfast table with Ginny next to him. His father had rushed to the Ministry this morning. He'd been summoned by the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. His mom, having fussed over his dad, had finally let him leave for work, and was now serving them a large spread of breakfast. But she was preoccupied with why Mr. Weasley had been summoned with such urgency. She feared for Percy and went through every horrible scenario imaginable. It was no help that on her clock, every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at 'Mortal Peril'. She still held out hope for Percy to come back, it had been only a few days since He-who-must-not-be-named was spotted; Percy would need time to gather his thoughts.

Ron interrupted Mrs. Weasley's anxious train of thought. "Mom, do you think we could have Harry over sooner this summer? I reckon he's taking everything that happened too hard. And the Dursleys' certainly won't be any help." Mrs Weasley rushed to Ron and trapped him into a tight embrace. "Ron, you're growing up to be a such a thoughtful man," she exclaimed jubilantly. Then, collecting herself, she let him go and muttered red-faced, how she was strung up because of Percy and his father.

Ron, massaging his neck, which had turned a deep shade of red, looked pleased with himself.

Ginny piped up from next to him, "Mom, should I write to Hermione too?" Suddenly, Ron felt the bottom of his stomach fall down. For a moment there, he felt excited, but scared at the same time. Thinking this must be how one felt with a war approaching, he shook those feelings away.

"That's a great idea sweetheart," Mrs Weasley replied, a bit overenthusiastic. "I'll have a word with Dumbledore about Harry. In the meanwhile, Ginny, send an owl to Hermione, while I send one to her parents. It would be rude of us to take away from their time with their daughter," finished Mrs Weasley as she bustled out of the kitchen.

With breakfast done, Ron wandered out of the kitchen. Home felt eerily empty now. Fred and George had moved out to a flat over Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. Percy didn't live with them either; not that that git-face made it any fun to be around. Bill had moved back home from Egypt last year to work for the Order. He'd yet to actually meet Bill this summer. He returned home last night after Ron had gone to bed, and left for work at Gringotts before Ron went down for breakfast.

He found himself in the backyard. Reminiscing of the time he and his brothers played Quidditch right here, he wondered how he'd spend his time this summer. Visiting Fred and George in Diagon Alley was already out of question. His mother had warned them against loitering around purposelessly, unless important, in such scary times.

Now that He-who-must-not-be-named had been spotted, he and his Death Eaters made no efforts to hide in the shadows anymore. As far as Ron had heard from his father last night, he had challenged Fudge to stay out of his way, otherwise he'd pay with Muggle lives. And he was true to his word. A bridge had collapsed suddenly, with the death toll going up to 36.

Ron suddenly noticed an owl, a muddy speck in the gloomy sky. It whooshed past him, neatly gliding into the open kitchen window. He rushed back into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley stood, tearing open a letter addressed to herself. Mrs Weasley stared at the contents of the letter, quivered imperceptibly and suddenly squealed with delight. Ron, who was expecting not-so-good news, jumped where he stood, banging his head against the edge of the open cabinet door overhead.

"It's your father! He's been promoted! The Minister has designated him Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects- well that's a mouthful- ten employees will now work under your father! Oh Ronnie!" Mrs Weasley squeezed Ron in another bear hug, the second this morning.

Mrs Weasley suddenly sobered up, grabbed the letter and began reading it again. Ron stood non-plussed, glad about Mr Weasley's elevated status. Mrs Weasley suddenly started sniffling, which confused Ron. Was she crying of happiness? 'Figures,' he thought. 'I'm delighted. With Malfoy out of the way, dad's had finally got the recognition he deserves. No worries now about the 12 Galleons for Apparition lessons... Wait! Mum's crying...?'

Mrs Weasley had now burst into tears, clutching at the letter. She whispered imploringly, "Oh Percy...," to the letter, as if it were Percy's face. Ron realised she'd been looking for news of Percy's return or apology. His ears turning red, he offered, "Mom, you won't miss Percy, Bill's here, isn't he?" At this, Mrs Weasley wailed even louder. Ginny, having heard this exchange, shot him a glare and rushed to her mother. Ron, now red-faced, turned on his heel and ran straight to the garden.

In the garden, Ron decided to pay a visit to the village fête. On the walk downhill, he fantasized about being able to Apparate there next summer. How many attempts would he take to pass the Apparition Test? Fred and George took one, Charlie took two- it reassured Ron that Charlie is only human too-Percy took one...Percy, that selfish, self-absorbed, good-for-nothing cur! Did he not realize how much he was hurting mum? How long does he need to apologize and mend his ways? They should've seen it coming! His self-importance was a huge red flag. Oh how proud his parents felt, for that very self-importance! Fred, George and himself never heard the end of it! Bill and Charlie, for all their perfection and smarts were never show-offs like Percy was. That baboon's ass!

He looked up with a start, as someone called out to him, "Hey! Mr Red-head! Watch where you're going!" He was about to trip over a huge, exposed root of a tree that had failed to regrow almost all of it's leaves over this spring, or- on second thoughts- had it LOST almost all of its leaves? In the summer? Wrenching his thoughts from the tree, he turned around to thank his saviour. There she stood, a wide-eyed girl, around his age, laughing brightly. He gaped at her with his mouth hanging open, the thanks lost somewhere in his throat. She was beautiful! Tall, with short blonde hair, a well endowed frame, tinkling laughter, and bright blue piercing eyes. Suddenly, she turned away. Ron followed her retreating frame to the village square. There she held hands with a horse-faced boy, and followed him behind the tree. Inching around the tree, Ron spotted her snogging him. He immediately tramped away, toward the fête. He longed to snog someone! He fantasized himself, snogging away. He couldn't imagine the technicalities, though he did imagine his hands, making their way around a girl's back, pushing her small body into his, and then into her bushy brown hair, taking in her peculiar scent, the scent of a dusty old tome. He suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. It had nothing to do with the chilly air around him. Come to think of it, it was uncharacteristically cold. The village fête lacked lustre. Hardly anybody was out of their houses. Most of the stalls were shut. He felt a bit hopeless really. Shooting a nasty look toward the girl and her horsey, he trotted back home.

It was lunch time when he returned. He walked into the kitchen, stomach growling, when he heard, "...another onion, s'il vous plaît! Eez not how we do eet in France" Mrs Weasley moved aside and Ron caught Fleur's eye. A lot of things happened in this moment. Ron's breath hitched in his throat, his jaw fell to the floor, his brain became addled (as if he had just downed a mug-one of Hagrid's bucket sized mugs- of firewhisky), the air around him felt heavy with perfume, almost as if he were back in Trelawney's classroom, though this time he wasn't nauseated, but floating on the fruity haze of perfume. He stumbled over the threshold and in front of Fleur.

"'Ello Ron, I see you 'aven't been told of my veesit. 'Ow are you?" Ron couldn't reply, try as he might. All that came out was a faint, gurgling sound. Fleur went back to the stove, while Ron groggily stumbled up to his attic room. He lay there till he cleared his head, then made his way back to the kitchen.

"Fleur's gone, you pathetic loser," barked Ginny, with a howl of laughter. She had witnessed his embarrassing ordeal. And to top it all, his face was now progressively turning an ugly shade of purple.

Ron turned his attention to his mum, who explained, "She's moved in with us for a while. Apparently, Bill thinks that he wants to marry Fleur. He wants us to get to know each other better. She's got a part-time job in Gringotts, so she spends the rest of her day here." "Because this is her home now," finished Ginny sarcastically.

It was late at night when Mr. Weasley and Bill returned home. They came bearing grim news. The Dementors had staged an exit. They had pledged their allegiance to the other side and were spreading out now, terrorising Muggles blind to their presence and helpless against the despair they spread. No wonder the village fête had been such a sorry affair. All through dinner, Fleur made sure that Bill didn't have to lift a finger to put food into his own mouth. Bill repaid her kindness with a kiss every few minutes. It was disgusting, to be honest! He smelt the old, dusty tome again.

Finally, Ron lay on his bed. It felt weird. He couldn't say why. He turned to his side and was soon transported to the edge of the Great Lake, a frizzy strand of brown hair barely visible from the corner of his eye.

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**I request you to please post your valuable feedback in the comments. I look forward to both constructive criticism and appreciation (if you think I deserve it). Thank you for your time!**


	2. Hermione Arrives

**Author's note:**

**I am sooo sorry for the delay in uploading. COVID-19 came with its own share of difficulties. I hope this chapter helps y'all get through your day while y'all stay safe and strong. We'll get through this together!**

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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The first 11 days of summer break went as fast as January does. In the beginning, Ron loved the feeling of not having to do anything. Of course, he did help Mrs Weasley around the house, but that was it. No homework, no essays, no classes, no prefect duties, and best of all- no studying for exams. But 3 days in, the monotony set in. He spent most of the time he was not helping Mrs Weasley, playing Exploding Snap or practising Quidditch with Ginny. Wizard Chess he reserved for Fleur. That was the only time he didn't make an utter fool of himself before her, and he was keen on making sure she realised he was more than just a drooling pup, though being around her every additional day was progressively less difficult.

They were often visited by the members of the Order, since headquarters had been temporarily shifted to the Burrow, pending clarity about who'd inherit Sirius' house. He'd often see Dumbledore, Lupin, Mad-Eye, Mundungus and other members visit home late at night when his father and Bill returned from work. Conspicuous in their absence were Snape and Tonks. They'd gather in the kitchen, during which it would be out of bounds. Try as they might, Ginny and Ron could hear nothing more than faint whispers of the goings-on. Using Extendable Ears was out of question, since the kitchen was protected by Imperturbable Charms.

Ron couldn't walk down to the village any more. Mrs Weasley forbade it. Regardless, Ron was always good at sneaking and fond of breaking rules. He'd sneak out occasionally, after everybody had gone to bed, just for the fresh air. Yet, he wasn't an idiot, and he took care not to wander too far away. On one of these nocturnal excursions, he happened to bump into Ginny. Of course he got mad at her for being so reckless. He made sure she'd realise how stupid she was being, until Ginny, eerily looking like Mrs Weasley, pointed out in colorful language, how he was being a hypocrite. Post this exchange, Ron and Ginny continued downhill towards the village in stony silence, Ron with his ears a bright red.

A week into summer break, Fred and George joined them for dinner. It was a full house and it finally almost felt like home did, before Bill first left for Egypt. Of course, Fleur did add the aura of giddyness (for Ron) and sickly romance (for Bill), but otherwise it was fun.

Someone else had joined them too. Ron had not recognised her when he answered the door. He stood with his mouth open, struggling to decide whether or not one must let a ghost into his home. He'd heard something similar about vampires. Suddenly, he realised this couldn't be Moaning Myrtle, could she? Myrtle couldn't leave Hogwarts. Tonks' voice broke his reverie. She greeted him with a "Wotcher". But the sound was coming out of Myrtle's mouth. It was Tonks! She looked ill, her eyes as lifeless as a ghost's. Embarrassed, Ron let her in, a bit overenthusiastically.

All through the dinner, Tonks hardly participated. Mrs Weasley kept coaxing her to eat more and they'd occasionally whisper to each other. She was nothing like herself. Gone was her colourful visage. She looked very pale, almost grey, with a dirty-brown head of hair. Ron could see her eyes gleam occasionally. He would've been more perturbed by Tonks' pitiful state, had Fred and George not been there.

Despite Ron and Ginny's insistence, Fred and George obstinately kept mum about their joke shop; they said one had to see it to believe it. Though judging by the presents they'd bought for all of the family, it looked like they were doing bloody well. 'Makes you realise that Hermione's smarts are not the only kind,' reflected Ron. Ginny and Ron begged Mrs Weasley to let them accompany her to Diagon Alley for their back-to-school shopping, so they'd finally get to visit the joke shop. When they couldn't appeal to Mrs Weasley's tender-motherly heart, they found success with Mr Wealey's thirsty-for-Muggle-trinkets heart when Fred and George alluded to a Muggle 'magic' section.

He often found, whenever his train of thought left the platform of consciousness, Hermione was suddenly the only passenger on it. Every time he did a chore, he thought back to the time Hermione and he had spent cleaning Sirius' home. The countless hours, just him and her, spent discussing Harry, He-who-must-not-be-named, Harry's trial, the Order, claims about Harry and Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet, Kreacher, how angry Harry would get when he arrived, and how best to perform every different chore. Of course Hermione knew how best to go about doing scruffwork; not because she's a girl (as Hermione explained to him in tears after an especially nasty bout of bickering), but because she's Hermione. How could he forget that time she schooled him on how to clean a gramophone. Her victorious laughter was not difficult to hear while he wrestled with the gramophone's horn, as it tried to devour his head. He had wasted no time in informing her about how annoying she sounded, specifying that it was a 13 on a scale of 1 to 10, which shut her up immediately. He felt guilty after that as they spent the rest of the day in relative silence. Truth be told, he did enjoy hearing her laugh. For some reason, he just didn't make mistakes while executing chores these days, maybe because he knew Hermione wasn't watching him, wouldn't swoop down on him and hold his hand and show him how to do it better... And he'd catch himself again, his train back on the platform of consciousness, Hermione having disembarked, as suddenly as she'd got on.

On Day 12, Hermione arrived. Mr and Mrs Granger joined the Weasleys for a hearty lunch, after which they drove back home in their car, leaving Hermione behind. As they drove away, Mr Weasley stared hungrily at the receding outline of the car. With a jolt of panic, Ron wondered whether this was how he looked when Fleur entered the room.

After the Grangers had departed, Ron eventually found himself alone with Hermione in the garden. The grass had been freshly mown for the Grangers' visit. "So, what have you been up to?" offered Ron. "Nothing much really. I'd been catching up on some reading. A bit of light reading really. Some Muggle titles, you wouldn't be interested"

"Try me"

"Well, I started with The Travels of Ibn Battuta, after which I-"

"Iben Batoot-toot?"

"I did say you wouldn't be interested!" exclaimed Hermione, then turned to go back inside.

"No! No no! I'm really interested. Is he a wizard?"

"I said these are Muggle titles Ron! Are you even listening?"

"I am I am, go on"

"Well it's a memoir of a great Arab traveler. Then I thought it'd be good to know what to expect, what with the coming War, so I read the Art of War by Sun Tzu- yes Ron, roll your eyes. It's a-study-of-warfare-that-stresses-the-importance-of-positioning-and-the-ability-to react-to-changing-circumstances. It's relevant!" she squealed, her voice having risen in a crescendo with every word.

"I didn't say anything!"

Ron indeed marveled at Hermione's resourcefulness. It did get his goat, but somehow, he found it quite irresistible. He thought back to a certain Charms lesson, where a certain annoying know-it-all tried to upstage him. He'd felt it was pathetic then. But everytime he thought about it since then, he couldn't help but feel awed and impressed.

Hermione's voice brought him back "...and when they told me I'd been invited to spend my summer with you- I mean here, we decided to spend the first few days holidaying in Spain. Ron, we participated in the celebrations of the Feast of Corpus Christi- they were spectacular! Every street was covered with long carpets of different and beautiful flowers and grass. Oh Ron! How I wished you were there with me! We also had Paella there- it's pretty good! The Spanish are very friendly, but all I could think of was how you'd probably just scowl at them," Ron just shrugged and walked on. Although he found the Muggle world pretty silly, what with them strapping wood to their feet to slide down mountains and jumping off flying airplanes with giant balloons on their backs, he envied Hermione. The only holiday Ron had ever had was when he'd traveled to Egypt. All that he'd seen in his life was London and Hogwarts and the village he lived in. No new food, no new culture. He figured he'd seldom find it suiting to his tastes, but he'd never got a chance to actually find out. He remembered how crazy it had been to float over Egypt on a carpet, instead of on a broom. He wondered how marvellous it would be to swim under the sea and touch the fishes. One more thing about Hermione he'd never be able to compete with.

They made their way to the house, each storey untidily stacked one over the other. Hermione kept trying to ask him about his holidays, but Ron had slid into one of his inexplicable (for Hermione) dour moods. Ron could see he'd succeeded in hurting Hermione, but he didn't feel the twinge of pleasure he was expecting to. He opened his mouth to say something, but by then they'd reached the kitchen and Mrs Weasley had trapped Hermione into one of her hugs. Leaving all the witches to their catching-up, he made his way up to his room with a skip in his step.

He opened the door to his room and was greeted with quite a clutter. Where had it suddenly materialised from? He picked up the Chudley Cannons fan magazine that he'd stepped on as he'd entered and kept it back neatly on his bedside table. There, he found his newly acquired chocolate frog cards and followed the trail to his bed. He gathered them all and put them into his bedside table drawer. He looked back at the bed to check that he hadn't left any behind, when the bed started beckoning to him. He figured he could rest his legs for a while, so he lay down for 2 mins. But 2 mins passed in 2 seconds, and he wasn't well rested enough. He reckoned Harry wouldn't really mind his room this way, would he? Then he remembered that Harry would be occupying Fred and George's room. He decided to defer cleaning his room till before he'd leave for Hogwarts and turned over and fell asleep.

He woke up feeling grouchy. Making a mental note that over-sleeping does in fact suck, he proceeded downstairs for dinner. His mum had cooked meat and two veg tonight. His father and Bill were still at the Ministry. Ron was sat next to Hermione, but she spent all her time talking to Ginny next to her. Actually, there was less talking and more fretting. Hermione couldn't stop talking about the O.W.L. results. They were expected any day now. Ron made a show of not really caring about them, but he did in fact care about them. He felt queasy with anxiety. He expected to fail most of them, especially Divination and History of Magic; and maybe scrape through one or two. He wished Hermione would stop talking about them.

He was just about to snap, when Fleur saved Hermione from his wrath. "'Een Beauxbatons, I don't reemember anybody being so anxious. Zey dint make us wait for our reezults for soo long, and when zey deed come, zey came in- wot do you call them?- 'owlers with sweet melodies, so zat we could keep calm." Nobody replied to Fleur, but nobody mentioned the O.W.L.s for the rest of the night either.

After everybody had retired to bed, Ron again decided to take a walk to the village, to try and calm himself down because truth be told, he was starting to feel as anxious as Hermione about the O.W.L. results.

He walked to the gardens and came upon Hermione. She looked a bit forlorn. She was sitting on the grass and looking at the gnome children running around playing catch and cook. But it didn't look like she was actually paying any attention. She seemed lost in her thoughts. Ron decided to go berate her. Why was she so immensely worried about the O.W.L.s? Everyone including her knew she was going to top. And her worrying was infectious. He walked determinedly towards her, but stopped suddenly. There, glinting on her cheek, the moonlight bouncing off of it, was a big fat tear.

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